This is Not How You Bookshelf! The Ballad of the Pink Spray Paint

In preparation for our approaching move to an apartment in (gulp) three weeks, my friend MC and I decided to paint a bookshelf. It was in fair-ish condition, but it's obviously vital that all our furniture go with a pink theme. We're not the most handy when it comes to household stuff, but we figured we could just hop into Lowes, get some hot pink paint and a couple of brushes, and we'd be well on our way to success.

That is what you might think. You would be wrong.

So MC's father gives us advice not to use spray paint, to use a primer, and to use Latex paint. We later discover that fathers, on occasion, know things. We are not so enlightened at this point. We walk into Lowes in awe of the general vastness of the store and make confused looks at people wearing red vests until someone takes pity on us.

Fortunately, an employee asks us seemingly useful information, such as "what is the bookshelf made of?" and "how big is it?" This is when it all goes wrong--After informing said employee that the shelf wasn't terribly large, we hear the five words that will make all hell break loose: "You can use spray paint."

And to naive souls, spray paint seems to be the obvious solution. It's cheap, fast, and fun to shake like a Polaroid picture. We buy two cans because, little do we know, we think we're being over prepared.

At this point, we're already in a hurry to beat out the rain that's threatening to cover State College (what else is new), so we shake up some spray paint, go a little nuts while accidentally painting spiders bright pink--does spray paint kill spiders? If so, this project involved insect manslaughter--and realize that all we're doing is making the shelf look spotty and splotchy. The only sp- adjective we intend to go for is splendiferous.

After getting the "I told you so" spiel from MC's father, with heads down and credit cards up, we return to Lowes and cry to a new employee. By the time we get to the words "spray paint" he looks at us as though we were trying to make cheese out of wood. And thus begins the introduction to primer.

Ohhh, you need primer to make your paint stick? Aren't we the fancy ones?

So, seeing as the first employee lied to us, we end up spending roughly $50 on fixing a bookshelf. Do you know what we could buy with $50? A new bookshelf.

The irony never ceases to astound me.

Primer and paint in hand, we return to the garage to start priming that shelf up the wazoo. We drag the shelf into the garage (and get our hands dyed hot pink along the way) and watch the white primer mix in with the hot pink spray paint whils't listening to Alex Day music.

And then we see the carpet. With splotches of pink. And that is when I hear "KIRA! I NEED SOAP AND WATER!"

I may not know a whole lot about cleaning paint splotches, but I do know that soap is the herpes of cleaning supplies--it gets everywhere. So while we succeed in erasing the pink, we get a giant pile of soap all over MC's carpet. With a giant bucket of water, we flush out the soap and pick it up with our hands. Ten rags and a roll of paper towels later, we end up with dried soap carpet and a giant wet spot on the floor.

And we haven't even done the paint coat yet.

All I can say is, tomorrow is a new day.

Namaste.